Tipsy Sister
by Eligent
Summary: Why was Sarah staying with McGee the night before Red Cell? Could it have something to do with the garage incident mentioned in Twisted Sister? Oneshot.


**Tipsy Sister**

**By Eligent**

**Summary:** Why was Sarah staying with McGee the night before 'Red Cell'? Could it have something to do with the garage incident mentioned in 'Twisted Sister'? One-shot.

**A/N: **Don't own anything. I'm not English speaking.

--

A ringing phone was never a pleasant way to wake up. Especially when you hadn't been in bed more than two hours. McGee's arm sneaked out from under the pillow and groped for the annoying cell phone on his nightstand, its glowing LCD screen making it easy to find in the darkness. He peered at the screen, but it was an unknown number.

"Hello," he answered, snuggling back into the pillow, lying on his stomach.

"Mr. McGee?" a male voice wondered.

McGee didn't bother to correct him on his title. "Yes?"

"This is Officer Briscoe from the 31st precinct. I'm sorry to wake you, sir, but we have your daughter in custody and we need you to come pick her up."

Suddenly McGee was wide-awake and he shot up on his elbows. "My _what_?"

"Your daughter, Sarah McGee?"

"Oh," McGee sank back into the pillow again. "Sarah's my sister, not my daughter."

"Oh, I'm sorry," Officer Briscoe apologized. "We asked for a phone number to her parents and she gave us this number. Should we call your father instead?"

"No," McGee said, yawning, "They're in Seattle this week, visiting my uncle. I'll come get her. Is she okay? What happened?" He really wished that the news surprised him more. But Sarah'd always been a bit of a hellcat, even if this was the first time she'd gotten arrested.

"She's fine, just inebriated," Officer Briscoe told him.

"Drunk? Oh that's just great." McGee rubbed his hand tiredly over his face. "What did she do?"

"Vandalism, sir. She spray-painted a private residence."

"Figures," McGee said tiredly, starting to feel angry. Vandalism? His little sister? She knew better than that, and if not he'd make sure she did before the night was over.

"Excuse me, sir?"

Realizing that speaking with a mouthful of pillow wasn't the best way of communicating McGee lifted himself up on his elbows again and said, "Nothing. Thank you for calling, I'll be right there."

--

An hour later McGee walked out of the police station with a surly Sarah in tow. One whiff of her breath had told him that she was still well and truly drunk and he wondered just how much she'd had to drink. Walking towards his car he took a hold of her elbow to help steer her when she seemed to veer off.

"I don't understand," he said. "I thought you and Katie Hutchinson were friends." Now that he knew the whole story, he was very angry. He liked the Hutchinsons. They lived on the same street as his parents and he'd known them for a long time.

"So did I," Sarah muttered under her breath.

"What?"

"She stole my boyfriend, Tim!" Sarah was seething with anger. "She and Dave were making out the whole night, right in front of me!"

"And you thought drinking yourself into a stupor and spray-painting 'bitch' on her garage was an appropriate response to that?" McGee answered in the same tone of voice.

"Leave me alone." She yanked her arm out of his grasp, almost toppling over with the motion. McGee grabbed her again and frog marched her to the car where he opened the passenger side door and guided her in.

"Seriously, what were you thinking?" he asked as he got into the car and looked over at his sister. She sat with her arms stubbornly crossed across her chest and refused to look at him.

"Seatbelt," he reminded her.

When she didn't move, he bent over and fastened it for her. As he leaned back he noticed that she'd fallen asleep.

'Great,' he thought irritably and started the car.

--

Waking Sarah hadn't been easy, but he'd finally gotten her up into his apartment. Turning on the lights and tossing his keys on his computer table he sat her down on his desk chair.

"Stay," he ordered her. She glared at him in response. Going over to the kitchen sink he found the biggest glass he owned and filled it with water.

"Drink this," he told Sarah, pressing the glass into her hand. "All of it. I'll be right back."

After fixing some things in the bathroom and bedroom he returned to the main room and saw that the glass was indeed empty. Taking it from her he went back to the sink and filled it again, this time handing it back together with the aspirin he'd gotten from the bathroom.

"Trust me, you'll thank me in the morning," he told her when he once again got the death glare as a thank you for his efforts. "But maybe I should just leave you with the hangover, see how you like that."

Sarah clearly showed him that she didn't appreciate his foul mood, but McGee hadn't gotten nearly enough sleep to be in a good mood when dealing with a bad-tempered teenager fresh out of jail.

"You ready to tell me why you did it now?" McGee asked.

"I already told you, she deserved it. That bitch stole my boyfriend," Sarah sneered petulantly. "What's the big deal anyway? It's just paint."

"No, it's not just paint," McGee said. "It's vandalism. Everyone who walks past the Hutchinson's garage will see the word 'bitch' and wonder who it's intended for and if that person really is one. And you and Katie have been friends since you were born. You've been to school together, you've played together, you've had sleepovers, you've babysat her little brother, you've baked cookies with Mrs. Hutchinson. Do Mr. and Mrs. Hutchinson really deserve to have that word painted on their garage, about their little girl?"

"Whatever," Sarah said grumpily, looking away.

McGee sighed. Apparently his sister wasn't a happy drunk. "You know mom and dad only let you stay in the house when they're gone because they trust you to handle the responsibility, Sarah."

"I am responsible!" she said, sounding offended. "That's why I went to a party instead of throwing one. Besides, if they want to go away on the one weekend I'm home from college-"

McGee interrupted her. "A: You've been home three times already and the semester's barely started and B: You didn't go home to see them, you went home to go to a party."

"And to get away from the dorm," Sarah pointed out sourly. "This idiotic hell week makes it impossible to sleep there." She toyed with the empty glass in her hands.

"Still, you're in college now, you should be acting more-"

"Don't you dare say mature or responsible, Tim," she told him with flaming eyes, "Because from what I've seen of the morons on campus, those aren't exactly two words that describe the typical freshman college student."

"Well, you're not a typical freshman, you're my sister and you should know better."

"Get off my case, Tim," she snapped at him. "You have no right to lecture me, you're not dad, you know. I'm going to bed."

Standing up abruptly she almost overbalanced again and McGee put his arms up to catch her, but she batted his arms away and thrust the empty glass at him before storming off into the bedroom.

'She's really angry,' McGee reflected as he put the glass in the sink before turning off the lights and following his sister into the bedroom

"What are you doing?" he asked as he saw Sarah crawl fully clothed into his bed, pulling the covers over herself.

"Going to sleep," she mumbled.

"Not there, you're not," McGee said, yanking the covers off of her. "That's my bed. You get the sleeping bag. If you're nice, I might even lend you a pillow."

"Tiiim," she whined. "I'm sick."

"You're not sick, you're drunk," he said ruthlessly. "Underaged, drunk little sisters who get arrested for vandalism gets the sleeping bag. Understanding, self-sacrificing big brothers who are awaken in the middle of the night and subsequently have to go to the police station and pick up said little sisters get the bed."

Sarah squinted at him, confused. "What?"

"Never mind, just get out of my bed," he said irritably. Normally his chivalrous side would be offering the bed to his sister, but after the stunt she'd just pulled, he wasn't feeling very courteous.

He pointed to the floor beside the bed where he'd unrolled his sleeping bag when he'd been getting the aspirin. Groaning, Sarah did a boneless flop and rolled over the side of the bed, landing on the sleeping bag. McGee winced as she only narrowly escaped cracking her head on the bedside table.

"This is a cruel and unusual punishment," she growled. "You really need to get a couch or a spare bed or something."

"And put where exactly?" he asked, tossing her one of his old MIT t-shirts. "Here, you can sleep in this. And brush your teeth before you go to sleep. I've put out a new toothbrush for you."

"Like an air mattress would set you back that much," Sarah muttered under her breath. After a few trials and errors she got up on her feet and stumbled to the bathroom, the t-shirt clutched in her hand.

McGee hadn't bothered to do more than put on a pair of pants and a jacket over the t-shirt and boxers he'd been sleeping in, so getting ready for bed again was easy. He got into bed, but he didn't lie down. Instead he was listening to his sister, making sure she didn't take a header of fell asleep in the bathroom. But everything went well and she soon stumbled out again and flopped gracelessly onto the sleeping bag.

"Good night," McGee said, turning off the lights. But tired as he was, he couldn't go back to sleep. In fact, he didn't even close his eyes. Lying on his back he stared up into the ceiling, the light from the street lights outside glowing faintly across it.

"Aren't you gonna give me the 'you're too young to drink' speech?" Sarah asked quietly.

McGee flinched in surprise. He'd thought Sarah would've fallen asleep immediately. "Are you going to remember it in the morning if I do?" he asked.

"I don't know, maybe."

He heard the rustle of fabric as she turned around in the sleeping bag.

"Well, you are too young to drink, and this night has definitely proven that you're too immature as well. Listen-" he leaned over to look at his sister and stopped in surprise. Sarah was laying facing away from him, staring morosely at the closed closet doors, looking absolutely miserable and he suddenly realized what she'd been hiding under her anger.

He turned on the bedside lamp and sat up, his legs going over the side of the bed.

"Come here," he said gently.

Sarah turned her head and looked up at him suspiciously. "Why?"

"Just do it. Come on." He bent over and pulled on her shoulders until she was sitting next to him on the bed. He left his arm comfortingly around her shoulders.

"Sweetie, I know that it hurts to be dumped-" he started.

"I wasn't dumped," Sarah said hotly, pulling away from him. "I told you, Katie Hutchinson stole him."

"Sarah," he said, pulling her towards him again. "You can't steal a person. If Dave's with Katie now, then it's voluntary on his part. Should she have refrained from flirting with him while he was with you? Yes. Should he have broken up with you before getting together with her? Yes. You have every right in the world to be angry, but you can't vandalize someone's garage as revenge. It's stupid, childish, illegal and unfair. They both behaved horribly, but they were two in it. And I'm sorry, honey, but Dave dumped you. And it sucks. You'd think he'd know better, being with the best girl in the world and all." He gave her a little squeeze of encouragement, but she looked just as depressed as before.

"He said it didn't matter that we were going to different colleges, he said we'd make it work, he said we'd be together for ever, he said… he said he loved me." She leaned into her brother who pulled her into a proper hug to let her cry on his shoulder. "I only went to that stupid party to be with him anyway, thought it would be a nice surprise for him. But I guess the joke's on me."

"I'm so, so sorry," McGee said rocking her slightly. "Dave's an idiot. You were bound to find that out sooner or later anyway. But take it from someone's who's been dumped a lot, it'll hurt for a while, but then it'll get better, I promise. And hey, you're in college now, there'll be plenty of guys all lined up for you to pick and choose from."

"Yeah, right," Sarah sniffled.

"No, really. You're smart and pretty and any guy will be lucky to be with you. Just you wait and see. And I know for a fact that there'll be plenty of available guys for a girl who likes her online computer games."

Sarah snorted through her tears. "Like I'd be interested in any of those geeks."

"Hey," McGee said with a pretended hurt voice. "Don't knock my kind. We can be quite romantic when we want to."

"Which is why you have such extensive experience with being dumped, right?"

McGee smiled bleakly, glad to see the normal, sarcastic, unbreakable Sarah emerge again. "I just don't want you to think that Dave will be the romantic high-point in your life. Now, if you want I can go and talk to him, do the big brother thing, put the fear of god in him and all that."

Sarah snorted again. "I hate to break it to you, bro, but you're really not that scary."

"Really?" McGee teased. "But I've been practicing."

"That's okay, Tim," she said, rubbing a hand over her wet cheeks. "I'm perfectly capable of yelling at him myself. It'll be all right."

"I know," he said, kissing her on top of her head. "And so will you."

They sat silently side by side.

"Can I have the bed now?" Sarah said after awhile.

"No."

Another moment of silence followed.

"You're gonna to tell mom and dad, aren't you?"

"No," McGee said lightly, "I don't think that'll be necessary."

"Really?" She sounded surprised. "Thanks Tim, you're the best."

"After all, the Hutchinsons only live four doors down from them and everyone on the street knows who you are. I'm sure someone else will be delighted to tell them. In fact, I bet Mrs. Miller will be standing on the driveway waiting for them when they come home on Monday…"

"Oh god," Sarah buried her head in her hands.

"I think you might want to call them at Uncle Rob's in the morning," McGee suggested. "And offering to repaint the Hutchinson's garage might not be a bad idea either. You will of course be calling them to apologize tomorrow, right?"

"Do I have to?" she whined.

"Yes, you have to. Now go to sleep. It's really late… or early, depending on how you look at it." He gently pushed her down onto the sleeping bag again and got back under the covers himself.

"At least it's Sunday tomorrow," she said sleepily. "You don't have to go to work."

"From your mouth to Gibbs' ears." McGee muttered as he turned off the bedside lamp. "Good night."

"Good night, Tim."

The End


End file.
